


Illuminated, Not Ablaze

by hoechled (orphan_account)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pack Dynamics, Pack Family, Pack Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-28
Updated: 2013-01-28
Packaged: 2017-11-27 07:24:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/659378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/hoechled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek’s birthday is coming up. Stiles decides to remodel the Hale house as his gift. Peter helps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Illuminated, Not Ablaze

Stiles Stilinski, for all his exaggerated sarcasm, was an extremely sentimental person. He thrived on routine and tradition, and he loved preserving events for posterity. When his mom was first falling ill, he took so many photographs his room quickly became cluttered by them. He told her, as she laughed on fondly, that he wanted to always remember how pretty she was, even as she began losing her hair.

When it became just he and his father, he documented any event he deemed worthy. The first time Dad cooked a meal without burning anything, the day he bought Stiles’s Jeep, the first time they talked all night without a glass of whiskey in his father’s hand. More photos, joining those old ones of his mother. More boxes in his closet collecting dust.

It wasn’t just with his parents, either. There were boxes upon boxes of photos documenting events with Scott. Their first joyride, their first crime scene, their first time getting illegally drunk. And then there were the more recent ones. Scott’s first full moon where he was totally in control. A series of shots depicting his fangs, his claws, even the lens flares that were now his eyes on film.

As Scott and Stiles started to spend more and more time with Derek’s not-so-merry band of misfits, Stiles began documenting those times as well. Things like Isaac grinning widely, not an ounce of fear or uncertainty shining in his eyes. Or things like Erica teasing Stiles, but only in the way close friends do, not one bit of malicious intent in her voice. Even the times that Scott and Isaac fell asleep side by side, or the times Peter was caught actually being kind.

When he realized how much money he was blowing by developing photos that just sat in a box, Stiles decided he ought to invest in a camcorder instead, and started recording the incidents to tape. This way, he bargained he could have something useful--like tapes of the wolves at training, easier ways to pinpoint their flaws--and could avoid the awkward eye roll and “Does this story have a point, Stiles?” that accompanied attempting to tell a story through photographs. The videos could speak for themselves.

Upon reviewing one he hadn’t recorded himself--he would occasionally allow the pups to pass the camera around amongst themselves, recording whatever they desired--he observed Erica whispering something to Boyd. She was speaking too quietly for human ears, so with a stroke of genius, Stiles called Scott and asked him to come over and decipher what she was saying.

Three minutes later, Scott was sitting in the kitchen next to Stiles, holding the camera to his ear, listening intently. “She’s saying it’s Derek’s birthday soon and she still has no idea what she’s supposed to buy an Alpha who hates everything fun.”

Stiles’s brow furrowed. “His birthday? Hmm. What does one get an Alpha werewolf for his birthday?"

“Something from the heart, Stiles. Though that shouldn’t be a challenge for one as kind as you,” a snide voice answered. Peter strode into the kitchen with his hands raised in mock-salute. “Don’t shoot, boys, I’m simply here for Scott. Your mother said you were here.”

Scott frowned. “Why are you looking for--wait. Why are you talking to my mom? She’s not even at home, she was at work!”

Peter chuckled, a twinkle in his eyes. “I do still have her cell phone number. But that’s beside the point, wouldn’t you say? I believe we were discussing my nephew’s birthday.” He perched himself on the counter, crossing his ankles and swinging them lightly, staring at Stiles expectantly.

Stiles, for his part, seemed unperturbed by Peter’s stare, and simply returned it with a confused one of his own. “What am I supposed to get him that’s ‘from the heart?’ I mean, does he even know what it’s like to enjoy things anymore? Look at where he lives! An abandoned subway car in some creepy ass tunnels half the town aren’t even aware exists! And he keeps his old home burnt and decrepit and condemned as some sort of punishment he doesn’t deserve and--oh. Oh. That’s an idea.” Stiles fell silent as confusion rolled off Scott in waves.

Peter, however, looked strangely smug. “Here are my credit cards, Stiles. Do what you must, spare no expense, be sure to record every step, and make sure it remains a surprise. Oh, and do howl if you require assistance, won’t you?” With that, he turned and made to leave, stopping only when Scott shouted out.

“Wait! Why were you looking for me?”

“Ah, yes. Derek asked I inform you that training has been moved to 7:30 pm this evening rather than tomorrow at noon.”

“You could’ve just sent me a text,” Scott grumbled.

“But then I wouldn’t have had cause to call your mother!” Peter trilled.

Not a second later, they could distinctly hear the front door closing. After glowering in Peter’s general direction for a few beats, Scott turned to Stiles. “So what’s this brilliant idea of yours?”

Stiles shook his head roughly. “Nope, no dice, man. My genius, go get your own. S’gotta be a surprise.”

Scott scowled and left, hollering over his shoulder, “See you at training tonight, ass!”

Stiles laughed softly for a few seconds before whipping open the drawer next to the refrigerator and pulling out a notepad and pen. He quickly began drawing up plans and making lists of things he would need, while also making a mental note to ask Peter just how far this line of credit would go, though he felt it would be endless if he needed it to be.

This was both good and bad, as endless finances would equal an uncontrolled Stiles, which was the potential bad of the situation. Uncontrolled Stiles would possibly lead to ridiculous extravagance, which could quite possibly equal a murderous Derek. This was an important gift he was going to be giving, and he’d be damned if he fucked it all up by putting too much into it.

With a quick glance at the clock, he realized he had about two hours before training, and decided he’d take his dad something to eat at the station while also stopping off at various supply stores to start price checking. After stopping at a few different stores to compile a list of different prices, followed by a quick stop at the Sheriff's department to drop off a salad for his dad, Stiles finally started the drive to Derek’s underground hideaway, camera in tow.

Though Derek had initially scoffed at Stiles’s suggestion to tape training, once Stiles showed him the way Danny had edited it for them to highlight the weaknesses of each wolf, it became a tradition. Each session they would first view the previous week’s video, Derek and Peter critically describing each flaw with each pup.

This was followed by a quick warm-up, and then the training. Each teen was required to make it through the session without repeating their mistakes, or they would be stuck spending extra time training with Peter--a punishment nobody wanted to endure, as, since his return, Peter seemed to have earned a master’s degree in Sass.

Tonight was no different, and Danny waved as he hopped out of his car, last week’s tape in tow. Stiles nodded back, lifting the camera as if to say, “Don’t worry, I didn’t forget the equipment.”

Training went as expected, full of scowls and groans from the pups as Derek and Peter criticized last week's tape.  Once the viewing was over, the new session started, with Derek taking point and Peter watching in the background with Stiles. Seeing an opportunity, Stiles passed the camera to Danny and headed toward the door, motioning that Peter should follow him.

Once they were far enough away that Stiles was sure there was no way Derek could hear them over the intense fighting going on inside, he pulled out his notes.

"Okay, I hit Osh, Lowe's, and the Home Depot and started comparing prices. I only had a guesstimate on the actual square footage so they were only able to give me a rough area for costs--and bear in mind this is just to make the place stable--but that's what we're looking at," he said, passing Peter the notes. "I wasn't sure how much you were willing to pay so I thought I'd ask before Derek has a chance to catch on."

Peter grinned almost fondly at Stiles, and quickly skimmed the price list. "It shouldn't be a problem, Stiles. You get quite a lot of money when a psychotic woman burns your home and family to the ground. This won't even make a noticeable dent."

Stiles wasn't sure if he should smile or not, so he settled for a nod. "Cool, I'll call the contractors tomorrow then. Thanks for this, by the way."

A softness came into Peter's eyes at that. "I want Derek to forgive himself as much as you do, Stiles. What Kate did to us...if I had just convinced my sister to tell Derek about hunters, maybe this wouldn't have happened. It's as much my and his parents' fault as it is his, if not more. You were right. He's punishing himself in a way he doesn't deserve."

Stiles was astounded at the sincerity in Peter's voice and found himself grinning uncontrollably before looping his arm through Peter's. "Let's get back in there before they get suspicious, yeah?"

* * *

The remainder of the evening went as it normally would, with a delivery of fifteen large meatlover's pizzas arriving the very second training finished. Erica and Boyd grabbed five and went to sit in a corner together, Scott and Isaac did the same in another corner, Peter took one for himself and went to sit in one of the subway cars, while Danny took his salad and joined Scott and Isaac.

This left Stiles and Derek with the last four to themselves, which was a good thing, considering just how much the Alpha was capable of eating.

As Stiles reached for a slice, Derek grabbed his wrist to stop him. Stiles looked at him confusedly, and Derek simply stared back.

"What are you planning?" he asked, ears practically perking, ready to hear the heart stutter that would signify a lie.

"Right now? I'm planning to devour half a pizza," Stiles said with no hint of arrogance.

Derek scowled that particular scowl that only Stiles seemed capable of coaxing out of him. "I meant with Peter. What are you planning with Peter?"

"Well if he told you, dear nephew, then it very well wouldn't be a surprise, would it?" Peter called from the next car over. "Stiles, say nothing more, he's listening to your heartbeat."

With a far-too-innocent shrug, Stiles grinned at Derek and grabbed a slice of pizza before heading over to where Peter was eating. Peter, for his part, gladly surrendered half of his pie in order to keep Stiles close and away from Derek's listening ears.

When Derek looked around at the rest of the pack for answers, they all shrugged. Scott appeared slightly sheepish, though, and Derek practically leapt at it. "What do you know, Scott?"

"I know it has something to do with your birthday, but that's it, I swear."

Unable to detect any lie in Scott's voice, Derek stared, a look of sheer stupidity on his face. "My birthday? I only told Erica when it was..."

Erica managed to plaster on a sorry look as Derek turned to her, his face questioning. "Isaac must have accidentally caught it on camera last training, and Stiles probably heard it in editing or something. I'm sorry, I know you didn't want a big deal made."

Derek waved a hand at Erica, feigning nonchalance as he prayed none of his pups picked up on his increased heart rate. "It's just a gift, right? What harm could it do?"

"Well considering it's Stiles and Peter..." Isaac began before seeing the look of terror on Scott's face. "I mean...worst they'll do is get you something that's a dumb dog joke, right?"

"Totally," Danny seconded. "I'm sure it's nothing, and if it helps, we totally didn't plan on getting you anything."

Derek actually laughed at that, and felt his trepidation dissipating. "Thanks, Danny. I appreciate the solidarity."

* * *

The next day, Stiles spoke with several different contractors, until he finally located the one that had originally done the Hale house. They were more than forthcoming with all of the information Stiles didn't have, and he thanked them profusely for their help, even as he secretly decided not to use them.

Once he had the general square footage of the house, he decided he should check the place out in person and as in-depth as he could manage. He sent a text to Peter, asking him to meet him there, figuring he'd be a lot safer in the falling-apart structure if he had someone with heightened senses watching out for him.

Peter arrived there before him, a strange mask of enthusiasm and confusion marring his face. "Good afternoon, Stiles. Might I ask what we're doing here today?"

Stiles nodded, a soft smile on his face as he headed inside. "I got ahold of the original contractors for the house and they gave me the exact size and all that, but I'm a visual learner, so I need to actually see each room before I buy any furniture."

Peter nodded thoughtfully, as if surprised by Stiles's dedication to the project. "Tell you what, Stiles. Since you're doing this for Derek, but the house is quite large and will likely house Boyd, Erica, Isaac, and myself, why don't I worry about most of the house, and you just take on the master bedroom?"

Stiles stopped halfway up the staircase to think about Peter's suggestion. "I'd like to be involved in all of it, but that actually sounds like a good idea. Like Extreme Makeover Home Edition!" At Peter's confusion, Stiles let out a laugh. "The host, Ty Pennington, he's sorta involved in rebuilding the whole house, but he picks one room that becomes his special project or whatever."

"Yes, exactly like that," Peter said, nodding emphatically.

"Okay, cool. Which one's the master bedroom?"

* * *

After calling back the first contractor he had spoken to, it was only a matter of days before the house was stable once more. The contractors had all but torn down the original structure, saving bits and pieces of the house that had remained stable, or, miraculously, untouched by the fire.

These pieces, however, were so few and far between, that they weren’t able to re-incorporate them into the new framework, and instead left the bits in a pile for Stiles to determine uses for.

Luckily for Stiles, this all finished up the day before spring break, which gave him an entire week and a half to get as much work done as he possibly could. He sent Peter a text, letting him know the initial work was now complete, and they could start furnishing the house whenever they felt like it. Peter responded that he’d start looking into appliances and such as soon as he could, but that Stiles ought to start painting first.

After a quick trip to Lowe’s, and a few charges on Peter’s credit card later, Stiles pulled up to the Hale house with several dozen paint cans and rollers. Upon entering, he noticed the pile of salvaged wood from the old house, and started carefully picking through it. Most of it was just ordinary wood, but one had some markings on it, faded and blackened by soot. Curious, Stiles took it toward the creek and carefully washed the soot off. Once the dirt was removed, the markings became more visible, and Stiles could fully see what they were.

There were a series of lines and numbers, and after pondering for a moment, he realized they were height marks, and the numbers were years. There were four columns side-by-side, one marked L, for Laura, one marked D for Derek, and two marked E and R. With a pang, Stiles realized the other two must have been Derek’s cousins, Peter’s children.

Gripping the piece of wood tightly, Stiles carried it to his Jeep, where he carefully wrapped it up in an old hoodie that was in the backseat. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do with it yet, but he was going to find a way to save this piece for Derek.

Once the piece of wood was safe in his car, he grabbed as many cans of paint as he could carry in one load, as well as a few rollers and some brushes. He set them down in one corner of what would soon be the living room, and opened one of the trays before jimmying open a can and pouring some paint into it. In the opposite corner, he set up a tripod and attached his camcorder to it before standing in front of it and giving a quick rundown of what he was doing.

“Hey Derek, Stiles here. This is day 1 of what I like to call Extreme Home Makeover Werewolf Edition. I couldn’t think of what to get you for your birthday until I talked to Peter, so we decided that it’s time for you to stop punishing yourself for what happened here. OH! Here, by the way, is your old house. As you can see, it’s no longer condemned. Anyway, back to day 1. Today is all about painting.”

Popping his headphones into his ears, Stiles set about painting the walls of the living room a nice off white. Within an hour, he had painted all but the ceiling, and decided this was as good a time as any for a break. As he headed to his Jeep to grab the lunch he’d packed, his phone rang, the screen showing it was Scott.

“Hey, man, what’s up?” he answered, trying not to make any noise that would give away his position.

“Not much, just letting you know Derek’s cancelled today’s training. He’s doing something with Peter, I guess, so I thought I’d see if you’re down for some all-night Halo since we’re on spring break.”

“Dude, I so would, but I’ve actually got something I’ve gotta do tonight.”

“Does this have to do with your top secret birthday present for Derek?”

“Yes.”

“Are you ever going to let me in on the secret?”

“Nope.”

“I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“Whatever. So I’ll see you tomorrow or something then, yeah?”

“Yeah, I’ll drop by for breakfast. Your mom works tomorrow anyway, right?”

“Yeah, but she’ll be here in the morning.”

“Sweet, tell her to make pancakes.”

“Will do, man. See you later.”

After he hung up his phone, Stiles sat down on the front porch, his lunch in one hand, phone in the other. He sent a text to Peter to tell him his progress so far, and received a quick response praising his swiftness.

As he closed his phone to put it away, Stiles found himself grinning into the next bite of his sandwich. Once he finished, he quickly jumped up and headed back inside, this time planning to paint the kitchen walls.  
He moved the camcorder to the counter, using the mini-tripod this time and hit record.

“Okay, the living room is about done, so now it’s time to paint the kitchen. I’m a firm believer in your kitchen being the most welcoming part of your home. Something I learned from my mom, I guess. She used to say that your guests should always feel most at home in your kitchen, because whenever someone was upset, the one way you can always comfort them is through good old fashioned comfort food. Anyway, Mom always said that she wanted to paint her kitchen a soft yellow, but she never got around to it.” Stiles held up the can of paint before pouring it into a tray.

“So, since my mom never got her yellow kitchen, you’re going to get one. Don’t you dare scowl at it, either, Derek. This is sacred, this yellow kitchen.”

Instead of putting his headphones in his ears, Stiles let his music play aloud, and danced around the kitchen as he painted the walls and moulding. After a few songs, it was as if he forgot he was recording himself, and he began seriously dancing, using the paint roller as a microphone. He was halfway into a startlingly decent rendition of Taylor Swift’s “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together” when he heard Peter laughing.

“HOLY--PETER. You literally almost scared me to death! I wouldn’t be surprised if you just shaved ten years off my life!”

The laughter hadn’t yet left Peter’s face, or his voice. “I couldn’t resist, Stiles. You were, ah, quite into your performance. Did you forget you were recording this?”

“Shit,” Stiles said, his face flushing. “I am so editing that out before Derek watches the tape.”

“Not a chance in Hell,” Peter said, flashing an almost sinister grin. “You do appear to have made quite a bit of progress since your last update, I’m impressed.”

“Yeah, well, ADHD is good for one thing, I guess.”

“I’m serious, Stiles. It looks good. All you’ve got left is the ceiling of the living room, and you’ll have painted two whole rooms in one day all by yourself. And you’re not even a werewolf. That’s a lot of work for one man, and yet you’ve hardly broken a sweat.”

Stiles shrugged. “Are you here to help? You could totally do the ceiling by the time I finish this last wall in here.”

“Yes, I could, and I will in just a moment. I was actually here for your input on some of the furniture and appliances I was looking at.”

“Oh, okay, yeah. Sure, just let me pause the recording.”

As Stiles turned off the camcorder, Peter pulled out various catalogs from Sears, Lowe’s, and HHGregg, each one littered with different sticky-note page markers. Stiles hopped up on the kitchen counter and folded his legs under him, Peter following his lead and setting the catalogs on the counter between them, flipping through the marked pages and asking Stiles’s opinion.

Once they selected all of the appliances, Peter pulled out an IKEA catalog that was marked with various furniture items, namely couches and beds for the living room and for the bedrooms of each of the betas. Stiles assisted in the selection of those as well, choosing options that would go well with the paint colors he’d purchased. Satisfied with all of the selections, Peter hopped off the counter and hailed Stiles with a mock-salute before heading into the living room to quickly paint the ceiling.

By the time Stiles finished up in the kitchen, Peter had gone, and the living room looked pristine.

* * *

In less than three days’ time, Stiles and Peter managed to paint the entire interior of the Hale house without raising any suspicion among the rest of the wolves. Peter was careful to make certain that neither he nor Stiles bore any lingering scent of fresh paint or lumber, knowing that Derek would trace the scent if he caught even a whiff of it, and Stiles made sure to cover his tracks by having his dad lie about what he had been up to whenever Isaac, Danny, or Scott asked. Since his dad was, well, his dad, everyone believed him.

Once the paint finished drying, Peter started moving in the furniture, setting up the living room and kitchen exactly to Stiles’s standards. He was allowed free reign on his own bedroom, as would be expected, but allowed Stiles to offer input on the bedrooms of the three teenagers, as he didn’t really know much about their personalities, at least not compared to Stiles, who had known most of them for years, even if only in passing.

Isaac’s room was the one that was painted a warm orange that Stiles called “rust.” He carried the camcorder as this room was furnished, dedicating this part of the documentary to Isaac.

“I know you had your own room at your house too, but I want this to be like a whole new thing for you. I know you don’t really feel like you fit in with the pack, and man, do I get that. I’m mostly here because Scott, which already puts me outside the pack, but then add that I’m a human and I’m even less pack. But anyway, this room is supposed to feel really warm and safe for you. Which, dude, hence the color.” Stiles’s hand appeared in the shot as he gesticulated wildly. Peter was also in the shot, putting together the bedframe. “The bed is like, oak or something, so it’s like, a super strong wood. Oak trees grow really big and old, and they’re like, symbols of strength, which you have by the bucket. I mean, you have to, considering all the bullshit you put up with in your life.”

“We’re just going to give you the bed and dresser and desk though, we’ll let you do the rest of the decorating,” Peter called out, turning and flashing a genuine smile at the camera. “Stiles was adamant about that.”

After Isaac’s room was done, Erica’s was next. Stiles wasn’t sure if she was going to live there full-time, and so Erica’s bedroom had a twist on it. Rather than a regular bed, Stiles had Peter buy Erica a couch and one of those beds that pull down from a cabinet. She also got a desk that matched Isaac’s, but hers was black instead of the warm brown he had. Her walls were painted an off-white that was bordering on pastel yellow, and on one of them, Stiles coyly painted a Catwoman mask and a Batman symbol side-by-side.

“This is probably the coolest room by far,” he said into the camera as he walked into the room backwards. “This one’s for my Catwoman, Erica. We weren’t sure if you’d be living here permanently since you also still keep up appearances with your parents, so instead of a regular bed, we got you one of these!”

Stiles handed Peter the camera before running to the wall with the symbols on them. “See this here?” he asked, pointing toward an almost invisible notch on the wall. “This is the handle. Just pull it out, and voila!” Stiles pulled the notch out and to the side, and stepped aside as the wall quickly unfolded into a queen-sized bed.

Peter turned the camera on himself briefly. “If you don’t like it, or if you decide you want something more permanent, we can always buy you a regular bed, but Stiles seemed fairly sure this quirky thing was something you’d like.”

Once they finished filming the tour of Erica’s room, they headed into Boyd’s, which was fairly similar to Isaac’s. The main difference was the color of the walls and the wood of the bed, which Stiles quickly explained.

“Your walls, Boyd, are a foresty green, because it always feels really calming, and that’s how you are. I mean, like, you’re sort of the beacon of calm in the pack. Things get crazy and all you have to do is give a look and everything calms down. So the walls are meant to match that. So’s the wood of your bedframe. While Isaac’s is Oak and Erica’s is Apple, yours is Elm. It’s supposed to like, bring peace and stuff.”

They quickly finished the tour here as well, and didn’t see a point in doing one for Peter’s room since he built it all himself. All that was left was Derek’s room, which was not even close to being finished.

* * *

Stiles might have gone a bit spend-crazy at Bed Bath & Beyond, but Peter had said spare no expense. So it was really all Peter’s fault that Stiles’s car was overflowing with drapes and craft items and pillows and bed-clothing in all different colors. He’d painted Derek’s walls a soft blue, and the bedframe he’d purchased for the Alpha was a sturdy oak one.

As he unloaded all of the crap into the room, he propped up the camcorder and hit the record button. The last thing he unwrapped was the piece of wood with the height markings. A soft look crossed his face, and he sat cross legged on the floor in the middle of the room, addressing the camera directly.

“When I hired the contractors to rebuild this place, I asked that they salvage as much wood from the original structure as they possibly could. One of the support beams is an original still, but most of the wood couldn’t stay in its place. The pieces that were good enough to recycle were left in a pile for me, which is where I found this.”

He held the wood up to the camera. “At first, I couldn’t tell what the markings on it were. It was blackened by soot, and I was afraid if I washed it too well, I would ruin it before I could even tell what it was. It took me nearly two hours to clean it completely, and once I did, the markings became obvious.”

Stiles stood and grabbed the camera, zooming in on the markings briefly before replacing the camera and sitting back down. “They’re height markings. From when you were little, I’m guessing. I know the L is for Laura and the D is for you, Derek, but I’m not sure of the other two. You don’t have to ever tell me if you don’t want to, but I saved this piece of wood because it’s a happy memory.”

Stiles sighed heavily and decided it was time to fully explain this venture. “When I first had the idea to fix up your house, it was just an easy birthday gift. But as I’ve worked on making this place habitable, and as I’ve gone through the rubble of the old framework, I’ve realized just how much pain you’re holding onto. I might not be pack, Derek, but I can still tell that this eats you up inside. And, dude? That’s bullshit. It wasn’t your fault, what Kate did. It was her fault, it was your family’s fault for not warning you about hunters, it was Kate’s fault for not ensuring she kept to the code. You’ve spent too long hating yourself and letting this place get sucked down in a pit of bad memories.”

He stood up, the piece of wood in hand, and grabbed a few tools, setting them on the table he’d dragged into the room to use as a workbench. “I’m turning this piece of wood into a lamp for your bedside table. That way, every time you turn on the light, this memory will be illuminated. It’s something my mom used to say to my dad when she was sick. She would say that the sweat shining on her face wasn’t because of her illness, it was so that in every picture, she would shine. So that none of the memories of her like that could be bad. She said if something could shine, then it was happy.”

Stiles blinked quickly, willing his eyes to stop shining, and set to work. Once he finished the lamp, he got to work decorating the rest of the room with the pillows and drapes and linens he’d purchased. He carved a triskele into the door, placed a vase of wildflowers on the dresser, made the bed, and vacuumed the floor. Once he was satisfied, he turned the camera on himself once more.

“So, happy birthday, Derek. I hope you like your present, and I hope you find a way to let go of some of your self-hatred this year.” He turned off the camera and smiled wistfully at the ceiling. “If you can hear me, mom, I could use your help making sure this works out right.”

* * *

Stiles borrowed Danny’s laptop and editing equipment and spent the next two days adding music over various bits of the manual labor shots of the housework, and fiddling with the audio levels of his narration. Eventually, he edited it all down to an hour-long documentary, and burned it to a DVD. He pulled out his phone as soon as he finished and told Peter it was time, and to tell everyone to meet at the subway cars for dinner that night, and to set up to watch a video.

He quickly jumped in the shower, got dressed, and headed out to Derek’s, his stomach turning over and over and over, butterflies swarming in full force. When he pulled up to the secluded place, he grinned, seeing Scott’s car, Danny’s car, even Lydia’s. “Good,” he thought to himself. “Derek can’t kill me with this many witnesses.”

They ordered Chinese for dinner and Lydia had baked a cake, much to everyone’s surprise. Erica had finally figured out a gift for Derek--a new leather jacket, since she accidentally shredded his in the last full moon--and Danny even surprised the Alpha with a brand new TV for viewing the tapes of training. Peter gave his nephew a ring in the shape of a triskele that was supposed to be passed amongst the Hale family Alphas, and even Scott had a gift for Derek.

Once everyone finished bombarding Derek, Stiles stood in the center of the room, holding up the DVD case he’d brought with him.

“Okay, everyone, ladies and wolves, and Danny. If I may have your attention please.” Everyone turned toward Stiles, curiosity on all of their faces--except Peter’s. “I would now like to present part one of my gift to Derek, though it would be unfair if I took all of the credit. I did all of the work, but Peter funded the entire venture, so really, it’s a joint gift. But the sentimentality is all mine, I assure you.”

Everyone sat down on the couch and on the floor, and Stiles popped the DVD in, before heading to the back of the group to stand next to Peter. The documentary began, showing Stiles in the barren living room. “Hey, Derek, Stiles here. This is day 1 of what I like to call Extreme Home Makeover Werewolf Edition.”

As the film played, Stiles fidgeted only slightly, and Peter smiled fondly. Scott periodically flashed Stiles a grin over his shoulder, Danny threw him a thumbs up, and even Lydia sent him an approving look. Derek smiled fondly at Stiles’s anecdote about  the yellow kitchen, and Isaac got up and practically crushed him in a hug when the part about his room came on-screen; Erica and Boyd followed suit with the unveiling of theirs.

Finally, the film came to a head, showing the masterpiece that was Derek’s room. Stiles had been a bit self-conscious in the editing process when he realized how much he had rambled about why he was doing Derek’s room the way he was, but there was no time to worry about that anymore. Instead, he focused on the way Derek froze when Stiles held up the marked piece of wood.

He focused on the shaky breaths he could practically see forcing their way in and out of Derek’s lungs, and he focused on the way the light from the television set reflected far brighter in the Alpha’s eyes than anyone else’s. Peter placed a warm, firm hand on Stiles’s shoulder, and squeezed lightly, as if to thank him for preserving that piece of the house not even he had known was salvaged.

The film ended, and everyone sat silent and still for a moment before all asking at once if they could go and see the new house. As everyone piled into the various vehicles, Stiles barely registered Derek climbing into the front seat of his Jeep. They rode in silence to the Hale house, and Stiles gripped the steering wheel so roughly, he was certain that if he were a werewolf, there would be finger-shaped dents in it.

When they pulled up to the house, everyone else was already there, but they were all sitting in their cars, as if waiting for a signal that they were allowed to go inside. Derek nodded once, and they all ran inside excitedly, every bit the young and innocent teenagers they should be. Stiles looked at Derek questioningly, and quirked an eyebrow.

“Are you planning on going inside at any point?”

“What makes you say you’re not pack?”

“I...what?”

Derek scowled and sighed. “On the video. You said you weren’t pack. You said it frequently, actually.”

 

“Well...I’m not, am I? I mean, Scott’s barely pack and I’m only really here because of him. And on top of that, I’m a human.”

“So is Danny, and so is Lydia. We had humans in our pack before the fire,” Derek said matter-of-factly.

“Okay, well--”

“And Scott is more than equal to the rest of the pack by now. And that’s not to mention that you and I plan training sessions together, not Peter and I, not Erica and I, not Isaac and I. YOU and I, Stiles. You wouldn’t have any such authority if you weren’t pack.”

“Oh-kay. So I’m pack?”

Derek simply stared at him, with an intense look in his eyes that seemed to say “Obviously, dumbass.”

“So did you want to go see your house?”

Derek tensed slightly before nodding. “You’re coming with, right?”

Stiles grinned. “I wouldn’t miss your reaction for the world, Sourwolf. I’ve even got my camcorder.”

They headed inside and took a quick tour of the living room and kitchen before heading upstairs, Derek grinning softly at the sound of Isaac and Scott talking in Isaac’s new room, Erica and Lydia squealing over hers, and Peter and Boyd whispering about theirs. Once they reached the second floor, though, his smile had faded, and was replaced with trepidation.

Stiles noticed, and put a hand on Derek’s shoulder. “It’s okay, dude. Take your time.”

They eventually made their way to Derek’s room, and rather than turning on the main light, Derek hesitantly headed toward that special lamp, running his fingers over the markings.

“It was always the best day of the month when we were little. Measuring ourselves, I mean. Laura was always the tallest, but she was also the oldest. My mom always had to make sure Laura didn’t stand on her toes, though, and my dad had to keep me from doing the same. The E and R on here were my cousins, Ethan and Rianne. They were Peter’s children. Twins, four years younger than me. They knew they wouldn’t be close to being as tall as Laura and I, but they always wanted to play along anyway.”

Several minutes passed in silence before Stiles moved next to Derek, placing a hand on his shoulder again. “I know it’s different, but I know what it’s like to lose family. I know what it’s like to think you could have done something, or to think it’s your fault.” Derek looked at him curiously.

“My mom’s illness...the doctors said she would last longer in a stress-free environment. But of course I had to be a problem child and cause her more stress than quintuplets could. And she would always say how tired she was, but I wouldn’t hear it. I made her spend time with me, I made her take me places....”

His voice trailed off, and he dimly registered Derek’s hand on his arm. “The doctor had originally given her about a year, but after two months with the cancer and spending time with me, she was down to weeks. I wore her down, wore her out. I blamed myself for years before my dad finally said that he had never seen her so happy as she was in those last few months.” Stiles sighed and looked into Derek’s face, even though he couldn’t make out much of it in the darkness. “You have to learn to let go, Derek. Let your memories shine, don’t hide them in the darkness.”

Derek took his hand off of Stiles’s arm, and slowly reached for the switch on the lamp, fingers gripping it tightly for a brief moment. He closed his eyes, and turned the switch, allowing the warm golden light to flood the room. When he opened his eyes, he saw the tears in Stiles’s eyes, saw the marks and initials illuminated--not ablaze--and felt a weight leave his body.

“Thank you,” he whispered softly, his eyes fluttering shut again.

* * *

Three months later, the pack had all but forgotten the abandoned subway cars they used to call home. Erica had fully moved into the Hale house with the permission of her father, though she had declined Peter’s offer to redo her bedroom. She said if it was what Batman wanted her to have, then that’s how it should stay.

Isaac no longer moved through pack meetings and training sessions as if he didn’t belong. Rather, he became the glue of the group. If someone was hurt, Isaac played nurse, and if one of their humans fell ill, he moved them into his bed until they healed up. Every Friday night, he cooked dinner, and every Sunday he invited Stiles over to help with breakfast.

Boyd remained the beacon of calm that the group needed, and seemed to appreciate the label. In fact, he flourished in it. Whenever Peter woke from a nightmare that the house was burning again, Boyd was there with low words and an encouraging hand. If Isaac slipped in his new joy, Boyd reassured him that everything was fine and that nobody was going to punish him for enjoying himself.

Scott fully immersed himself in pack, finally putting his trust into Derek, Peter, and the betas. He and Isaac began spending more time together than anyone else, and he and Erica even began a playful brother-sister relationship. He taught Boyd a few tricks he learned about being a werewolf back when he only had Stiles to help him, and he even forgave Peter for giving him the bite without his consent all that time ago.

Lydia and Danny also became fully immersed in pack. Danny and Boyd became unexpectedly fast best friends, staying up all night having movie marathons and planning pranks on Peter and the rest of the pack. Lydia became close with Peter, deciding that she didn’t blame him for everything, especially after he was nearly killed protecting her from the Alpha pack.

But the most remarkable transformation was that of their Alpha.

Where Derek had once been distrusting, he now wholly trusted his pack, and even Chris Argent--with whom he had a pact of peace. He trusted that his pack would come to him if they needed help, he trusted that his uncle was reformed, he trusted that they were safe. Where he had once been full of anger, using it as his anchor to humanity, he was now full of joy, and used the happy memories of his family and his sister as his anchor. He no longer hated, and he strove to fill his life with love again.

His pack was his family once more, and he was no longer afraid of that fact. Especially since he had Stiles by his side. While Stiles had marked Boyd as their calm, it was Stiles who truly proved to be a good man in a storm. Stiles never let Derek fall back into his old ways, and he never let any of the rest of the pack do it either. He kept Isaac positive and self-assured, he kept Scott involved, he kept Boyd strong, Erica kind, Lydia and Peter at peace. Stiles was truly the one that held the pack together.

The day Stiles and Derek walked into training with their hands entwined, the rest of the pack whooped and cat-called. The first time the pack woke up for breakfast and Stiles stumbled into the kitchen wearing a pair of sweats and one of Derek’s shirts, they wolf-whistled. And at the inaugural Christmas at the new Hale house, they conspired to trap the pair under the mistletoe.

As Derek pulled Stiles close and pressed their mouths together, lips catching and teeth nipping, a warm fell across the room. No longer were they a band of not-so-merry misfits. They were a pack. They were a family. And they finally had a place they could all call home.

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this at 3 am while half asleep, and found myself adding to it every night in a similar fashion. Somehow it wound up being 7k, and semi-decent. Everything in here is probably unrealistic, I just happen to watch an unhealthy amount of Extreme Makeover Home Edition. Hope you enjoy it anyway! xx


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